


Thief in the Night

by Ursula



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Domestic Discipline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-03-10
Updated: 2005-03-10
Packaged: 2019-02-05 14:32:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12796509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ursula/pseuds/Ursula
Summary: In which Richie gets an owie and Cory makes it better





	Thief in the Night

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Haven, the archivist: This story was originally archived at [Fandom Haven Story Archive (FHSA)](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Fandom_Haven_Story_Archive), was scheduled to shut down at the end of 2016. To preserve the archive, I began working with the OTW to transfer the stories to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. If you are this creator and the work hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Fandom Haven Story Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/fhsa/profile).

Thief in the Night for Melanie's BD

 

Cold, miserable, and still scared to death, Richie raced through the night away from Seacouver. He could still see Jennifer Hill, her eyes wild with grief and anger as she aimed that gun at him. The worse thing was that he deserved to die. How could he have done it? How could he have made love to her, knowing that he had taken her husband's head? Richie felt as low as anything. He was a creep. He wasn't sure if he could ever forgive himself.

 

For once, Mac hadn't yelled at him. He had talked to Richie like a grownup and sent him away again. Damn, Richie didn't feel like a grownup. Richie would have rather have been upended bare butted over Mac's knees for a spanking. Man, he would like to go back to those simple days.

 

The rain was blowing up through his helmet, up under his jacket. The bike had that gliding sensation that would have been fun if Richie hadn't known it meant that he was hydroplaning on the water covering the roadway.

 

The rain and wind picked up. He should stop, but where? There should be a rest stop somewhere. There had been a sign a few miles back.

 

On and on, losing contact with time, his fingers numb, misery blunting his instincts. Lights hit him at the same time as he felt someone. An immortal was in the oncoming vehicle, the vehicle in the correct lane where Richie was not... 

 

Flying through space, free for a moment and Tessa reaching for him with a smile on her face. Past his beloved Tess, Richie could see Emily Ryan looking at him tenderly. Yes, let him go home now, poor weary boy...

 

 

OooOooO

 

Sensation returned with an electric rush of breath. Richie yelled as life returned. He ached all over, but he was warm. Someone was bathing him. Firm, gentle hands sponged him clean. Richie gave himself up to the comfort. He knew it was an immortal, but hey, his

head was still on his shoulders. What's to worry?

 

Someone was singing, not exactly a rock star voice, but it was okay...

 

"Under the green wood tree who loves to lie with me," the man sang. The instrument wasn't a guitar. It sounded different. Richie opened his eyes as his curiosity roused him...that and the smell of food, chicken soup from the scent of it.

 

"I'm hungry," Richie announced. Somehow, he hoped that the man was Mac even though he had heard Mac sing before...if you call that singing. Richie had once told his mentor not to sing in the woods because some moose was likely to think it was a mating call. He was spanked for that too.

 

Music stopping, a laughing voice said, "That's always a good sign."

 

Oh, Richie did know that voice. Cory Raines? Cory -the-shit- head Raines? He was in hell!

 

"Hey, it's not that bad," Cory said. "Good thing that it was me. Whatever got into you to ride in that storm. It's going to take us a month to rebuild that bike."

 

Us? A month with Cory Raines in a...in a motor home? Richie whimpered, "God hates me."

 

"I'll put a good word in for you," Cory said with a grin.

 

The man was wearing another big shirt, this one green. Its neckline was open and the billowing sleeves were pushed back. Richie looked past the immortal to take in the motor home. "Did you steal this?"

 

"What do you think?" asked Cory.

 

"I think you must be the luckiest immortal on the planet to live from the depression until now," Richie said.

 

"Guess again," Cory said, green eyes twinkling.

 

"What?" Richie said. Man, that soup smelled good. Cory might be a creep, but either he was a good cook or he knew one. Riche sat up and finally it occurred to him that he was naked.

 

"I'm older than you think," Cory said.

 

"Don't try to pretend to be Methos," Richie remarked. "I already fell for that scam once."

 

"I'm not Methos, but I know him. In the biblical sense," Cory said.

 

Yeah? Wow, Richie wondered if Duncan knew all about that. A sudden image of Duncan and Methos doing the wild thing together made Richie blush.

 

"How old?" Richie asked, "Not that I believe you."

 

"How does Robin Hood strike you?" Cory said. He stood up and strutted off with the basin he had been using to wash Richie.

 

All of Richie's clothing was probably in that garbage bag. By the look of his helmet, Richie had bounced more than once off the roadway. Dolefully, Richie stood up and swayed. He felt like an empty pit that was about to collapse around his middle.

 

Cory was in the tiny kitchen. Richie wrapped the sheet around his middle and followed his nose to the table.

 

"Chicken soup for the Immortal's Soul," Cory said. "I gave the man the idea for the first book, you know." He set a bowl in front of Richie.

 

"Yeah, yeah, right," Richie said, but that soup smelled like the best that Duncan had ever made. He took a spoonful and said, "Hey, this is Duncan's recipe."

 

"No, it's mine. I did teach Duncan to make it. Amanda can't cook," Cory said, "Nor clean. That MacLeod though, he does keep a tidy place. Make some man a good wife."

 

"Yeah, he is a neat freak," Richie said. "Are you?"

 

"Whatever," said Cory. "I don't worry."

 

"So you're saying that you were like Robin Hood," Richie said.

 

"No, I'm saying that as far as he ever lived, I am him. Amanda was Maid Marian and dear Methos was Friar Tuck. He did have a religious bent at times. Oh god, oh god, Cory, more," Cory said, sitting down with another bowl of soup."

 

"But Methos isn't fat," Richie said.

 

"He was a fatter then and after all in those robes who could tell? Besides he was always hiding a jug of mead under that cassock," Cory said.

 

Realizing that he shouldn't be blabbing about Methos, Richie decided to change the subject. He said, "Mac and you, did you used to get along?"

 

"Yes," Cory said, "I exasperated him the same way that Amanda does, but I made him laugh too. Mac takes on too much and he needs someone to play the fool so he can relax. We had a lot of fun in those days."

 

The soup vanished into Richie's yearning body. Cory took his bowl and filled it without comment. Richie looked at him and said, "Thanks, for not leaving me too and taking care of me. Hey, Cory, was I on the wrong side of the road or was that one of your old tricks?"

 

"You were on the wrong side. Unfortunately, both of us saw each other and swerved at the same time. I try not to have old tricks. New ones suit me better," Cory said.

 

Richie looked around, as the second bowl was scraped clean. "I don't suppose you have a shower?"

 

"I do," Cory said. "Water should be hot. I've been hooked up for hours."

 

"Are we at a campground?" Richie said.

 

"Yes, outside Sol Duc Park. I was heading off to Canada to stay with a mortal friend," Cory said. "Where were you going?"

 

"Hell, if I know," Richie said.

 

"Then you are invited to come along with me. We'll rebuild your bike and have some fun along the way. It should make up for the way we met," Cory said.

 

OooOooO

 

If someone told Richie that he would not only feel safe with Cory Raines, but also enjoy his company, he would have said they were crazy. Yet he did.

 

Cory was great. He never seemed to have glum moments. Everyone liked him. Man, the little kids at the campground were all over him and the ladies too. God, the guy was a flirt. He batted his eyes at women and...men. His butt wiggled in a seductive sway the moment he sensed someone was watching. Frankly, the man was a slut, but a kind hearted one.

 

The man knew bikes as well as he knew flirting. They had the bike totally apart. Fortunately, there was a junkyard with several wrecks of the same year. Richie should have asked where Cory got the money for the repairs, but it was just one of those questions that it paid not to ask.

 

It would have been a nice break, a lunatic high of an interlude, but Richie was having such bad dreams. He used to think that the Mac dreams were the worst, replaying the way the man was during the dark

quickening when he had came after Richie's head. Now, he had worse ones in which he was raping Jennifer right over the headless body of her husband. He also dreamed that Mac hadn't stopped the woman and she chopped off his head, only he couldn't die. His eyes watched as she chopped him in smaller and smaller piece, each one still conveying agony to the severed brain of his body. That one made Richie scream so loud that they had to move to a different campground the next day.

 

That night at the new campground, as soon as Richie started to whimper, Cory woke him, made him get out of bed, and get into the big bunk with him. Richie had obeyed, but lay there rigidly, waiting for Cory to start asking for some pay back. Instead Cory had snuggled up to him and said, "You can sleep now. I'll watch over you."

 

And Richie slept the rest of the night.

 

Working on the last of the bike repairs, Richie frowned. He wasn't ready to move on. He didn't like being alone. He didn't know if he could handle those nightmares. He sighed and stopped his work.

 

Cory said, "Want to tell me about the dreams?"

 

"No," Richie said, then, "Yeah, I guess."

 

The entire story came tumbling out.

 

Richie asked, "You ever do anything that bad?"

 

"Worse," replied Cory. "I never mean to hurt anyone, but that doesn't help the people who are in the wrong place at the wrong time."

 

"Yeah? So how do you handle it?" Richie asked. He braced for a Mac like lecture.

 

"Well, I usually find someone to spank my silly ass for me," Cory said. "It used to be Methos. He picked me up after my first teacher, Matthew McCormick, was about to chop off my hand for stealing. Can you imagine the bastard doing something like that to his own student? If Methos had not knocked him out, I would have been easy meat to any whole-bodied immortal! Then, later, when Methos took off for some damn monastery to hide from some old lover of his, I had to make do with lesser men. Mac has a good hand for that. Spanking."

 

"Yeah, I know," Richie said, "But I don't think I'm welcome back in Seacouver for a while. I was thinking about seeing Europe. I haven't hardly been anywhere."

 

Reflectively, Richie said, "If someone spanked me for what I did, maybe I could start to deal with it." He looked at Cory speculatively.

 

"Me? I'm hardly a moral pacesetter," Cory said.

 

"Yeah, but you took care of me. That means a lot to me. Help me out here, Cory!" Richie said.

 

"Will it work?" Cory asked.

 

"Yes, just think Duncan," Richie said.

 

It felt awkward at first. Maybe it was a stupid idea to shove his bare butt under Cory's roving eye. More than one girl had told Richie had a fine ass that bore watching. Cory was a great guy, but Richie wasn't ready to take the big plunge into the sexual mores of older Immortals.

 

However, Cory took a deep breath and said, "What is this spanking for, young one?"

 

"For picking challenges when I didn't need to fight," said Richie. "For giving into sexual impulses, knowing it was wrong. For staying in a situation that could only lead to disaster."

 

"And you knew better, Richie Ryan, because you are fundamentally good," Cory pronounced with a huge stinging swat.

 

Richie choked back a yell.

 

"You are a good man, Richie, nothing can change that. You made terrible mistakes," Cory said, "but we all do that."

 

The blows rained on his bare flesh, shaking him. Richie tried not to cry aloud, but it hurt. The pain focused him. He ran through the last year of his life and, God, he had every reason to cry. The tears flowed faster as he imagined how Jennifer felt when she found out that she had slept with her husband's killer. He examined Alec Hill's memories buried in his quickening and found surprising peace. He found forgiveness and he found...joy that the immortal had been able to touch his beloved one last time.

 

As Richie sobbed over Cory's knees, Richie felt the essential part of Alec moving on, seeking a place to wait for Jennifer. Next time, perhaps, they would live out a mortal life together.

 

Ass red as a beet, his lower body on fire, Richie clung to Cory and cried. Cried because life was very confusing. Cried because he had not yet experienced a love like Jennifer and Alec had and because he was afraid that he never would.

 

Cory rubbed his back and made promises.

 

An hour later, Richie sat in a hot tub at a hotel and admitted that it felt good despite the ill logic of heat soothing the ache of a burning butt.

 

"I didn't asked to be spanked that hard!" Richie pointed out.

 

Cory opened one eye and peered at him. "Duncan spanks harder."

 

"Well, yeah," Richie admitted.

 

"You know what you said about things you have never done?" Cory said.

 

"Yes," Richie said, embarrassed.

 

"I'll bring you to Monte Carlo, but how you get to drag in a Ferrari is up to you," Cory said. "Deal?"

 

"You got it," Richie said. He grinned. He might not live a thousand years, but while he was alive, man, watch out world! Richie Ryan was on the loose!

 

The end


End file.
